


You Can't Always Get What You Want

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Grad School, Bad Jokes, Banter, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Humor, Romance, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Rey, a first year graduate student, gets a huge grant that would fund her research for years. The catch? In order to get the money, she has to convince Kylo Ren to agree to work with her.Luke thinks it’s a bad idea.Finn thinks it’s a terrible idea.But really, how bad can one moody post-doc be?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All experiences in this story are drawn from my own personal time in grad school. Apologies if anything is unclear! The point of this story isn't the science (it's porn, let's be real, here), but it's easier to draw from my own time in experimental psych than to make stuff up.
> 
> This is also my first Star Wars story, so hopefully, it's not too darn awful :)

“Alright, here it is - do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Good. Always good news first.”

Rey released the breath she’d been holding, fighting back a squeal of excitement.

“I got it, Finn - I got the grant.”

She laughed at her friend’s subsequent whoop of joy, the sound bubbling up and out of her chest at last.

So many months of work, followed by even more months of waiting. The stress of it all had been awful - she’d not been able to sleep, or eat, or even take a shower without wondering whether or not she’d done enough to get the funding for which she’d applied. She swore it’d given her her first gray hair.

But it was worth it - all of it.

It was worth every last bit of anxiety and fear she’d experienced this past six months.

“Rey, that’s great! No, more than great - that’s _amazing_! Do you know how many people get these grants? Only twelve!”

“I think it’s more than twelve, Finn-”

“So it’s a rough estimate and not an exact number - sue me. But these things are incredibly hard to get!” He paused, and Rey knew he was smiling, even if she couldn’t see his face. “I’m so proud of you, Peanut.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Rey admitted. “All those late-night editing sessions, helping me fix my run-on sentences and misspellings-“

“Adoption, not adaptation. Dumb autocorrect. And don’t forget your split infinitives. You have a got a problem, girl-”

“Getting me through not just the first, but also the second, and the third, and the _fourth_ draft-“

“God, I never want to see the phrase ‘three year proposal’ ever again.”

“And of course, supplying me with endless amounts of tea-”

“Since you refuse coffee, naturally.”

“Naturally.”

Rey was beaming, Finn’s joy on her behalf infectious. She could feel it, warming her through and through, easing the spike of tension that had roiled through her stomach upon waking and seeing the email from the Federal Institute of Health sitting in her inbox.

“So what’s the bad news?”

Rey blinked, the question catching her off-guard. “What?”

“The bad news,” Finn reiterated. “You said there was good news and bad news. You got the grant, which is obviously good. So… what’s the catch?”

“Oh. Right. Well, it’s not bad news, not really. It’s just… unexpected. Really, I can work around it, no big deal-”

“Rey.”

“Right. Okay, here it is.” She took a deep breath. “They want me to work with someone.”

“Work with someone… like a collaboration?”

“Not entirely,” she continued. “It’s more that a… project of mine that will overlap with one of theirs. We’ll ping theories off each other, strengthen each other’s weak points.”

“You know this person, then? You’ve met them?”

“No. I don’t. They just happened to apply for the same grant as I did. But they works at the university, and our proposals sort of touched on each other, so I’m guessing they wanted to kill two birds with one stone and co-sponsored us.”

“Another grad student, then?”

“Post-doc, actually.”

It had been a surprise, for certain. Frankly, she hadn’t even known their department _had_ any post-doctoral fellows. She knew most of the psychology professors and their students; she went to all of the departmental gatherings, no matter how tedious or out-of-the-way they were, and she’d made sure to sign up for a variety of classes to start satisfying her core requirements. She had assumed that, one way or another, she’d met just about everyone there was to meet.

Apparently, she was wrong.

“Well, what's their name? Maybe I know 'em.”

“Ah, hold on, let me find the email. I didn’t recognize it. It was something odd,” she added, moving to her laptop and opening up her web browser, searching for the email she’d saved this morning.

“Odd, like hard to pronounce? Or something like one of those weird celebrity names, like Apple?”

“Neither,” Rey replied, “It was just… well, I didn't recognize it.”

“Huh.”

“I’ve got it pulled up now. Just give me one second,” she said, leaning forward a little closer to the screen. “‘Dear Ms. Niima, thank you for your interest… we are delighted to inform you…’ ‘kay, here it is - ‘we have decided to make you the co-recipient of this grant along with one K. Ren, post-doctoral fellow to distinguished professor emeritus, L. J. Snoke, both of whom also call your university home.’”

K. Ren.

Not so much odd as unfamiliar to her, now that she thought about it.

Now, Snoke’s name, she had recognized, though only by word of mouth. He studied criminal psychopathy, and as she was in the developmental program, their paths didn’t naturally intersect. But it wasn’t just that their disciplines didn’t overlap - Snoke was something of a recluse, not having taught a class since he’d reached emeritus status a decade ago. He was rarely seen outside of his lab, and he never went to department functions.

Perhaps his assistant, this K. Ren, had taken after him in that regard.

It was then Rey realized that Finn was unusually silent, and she frowned. “Finn?” she prompted. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Oh yeah, I’m here.” He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his tone was strangely subdued. “Ren, you said? _Kylo_ Ren?”

“Well, there’s a ‘K’, it doesn’t list a first name-“

“It’s gotta be him. Only Ren listed in the Arts and Sciences directory. I just checked.”

“You’ve met him, then?” Rey interjected. “Kylo Ren?”

“Oh yeah,” Finn muttered, distaste lacing every syllable. “I know him.”

“Judging from your tone, you wish you didn’t.”

Finn snorted. “You could say that again.”

“So who he is? What’s he study?”

“Adolescent and child psychopathy, with a focus on how Conduct Disorder and Oppositional Defiant Disorder contribute to or exacerbate psychopathic violence and aggression.”

Rey frowned and then looked down at her computer screen once more. “Well, that’s very specific.”

“And totally not connected to what you’re researching,” Finn pointed out.

“There has to be some connection,” Rey disagreed. “They wouldn’t have co-funded us if they couldn’t justify us working together. Perhaps it’s the fact that we both study children?”

“But Ren doesn’t study kids - or at least, not like you do. You want to help make things better for kids in disadvantaged situations. How are you gonna do that if you have to work with him?”

“It’s not like I’ll be forced to work exclusively with him. This grant would fund some individual research too.”

“Still… that’s… you know how long an experiment can take. And what if you submit something and you have to make revisions. You know as well as I do how long the process can be. You sure you want to do this? With _him_?”

Rey’s eyes narrowed, having honed in on the suspicion in her friend’s voice. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Talking about Ren like he’s some sort of… miscreant.”

“Because he is,” Finn said flatly. “A butt-faced one.”

Startled, Rey stifled her laugh with the palm of her hand. “That hardly seems like a reason not to work with someone. So come on. Tell me, why do you _really_ dislike him?”

Finn was silent for several long minutes, the quiet lasting so long Rey almost thought he wouldn’t answer her. When he did, it was in a much subdued voice, the smile having faded from his words.

“Remember how I used to work in another lab?”

“You’ve mentioned it.”

She hadn’t pressed for details when Finn had told her he’d started out in the clinical program. He’d not seemed keen on talking about the time he’d spent there, and Rey hadn’t wanted to pry, their friendship too new to start pushing boundaries.

“It was with Ren. I was one of Snoke’s students.”

“What?” Rey’s voice was sharp with surprise. “I thought you were studying with Poe!”

Finn snorted. “I wish I’d been studying with him,” he muttered. “But no. It was Snoke back when I started. Before I transferred to Organa’s lab to work with Dameron. Poe was the one who helped me get _out_ of Snoke’s hands.”

“I didn’t even know he took students still…”

“He doesn’t. Not anymore, at least. He’s got Ren, and that’s all he needs for his legacy. Good thing, too - no one else has to put up with him now.”

“Is he… bad?”

“He’s awful, Rey. Awful. And not just as a mentor - as a person. He’s cruel, always belittling his students, and he keeps secrets from them. He manipulates people into thinking they need him, makes them think they can’t make it in the field without him. Ren? He’s been here eight years now.”

“ _Eight_ years?”

It wasn’t unusual to take five years to get through a doctoral program. Even six wasn’t unheard of - but eight? Working with the same person?

Rey couldn’t imagine spending eight years here. Her mentor, Luke, was easygoing enough, and she liked him very much. But she wanted to start her own research, not work on his projects forever.

Surely Ren was the same?

“Uh-huh. Eight. Almost nine now, actually. Snoke managed to get him a post-doc position after he finished up his dissertation, but the guy refuses to let him work with anyone else. Ren’s his protege. He wants to keep any research tied to his work in his lab, some bullshit like that.”

“And Ren just… accepts this?”

“Honestly? I don’t think he’s got much of a choice,” Finn admitted. “The guy’s got anger issues, Rey, and baggage - loads of it. I’m talking Jerry Springer level shit here. Even if he wasn’t with Snoke, no one would want to work with him. Sure, he’s brilliant. But people don’t wanna take the risk that he’s gonna explode and torpedo a research project. So I’d be damn sure you’re okay with working with him before he ruins what you’ve got going.”

Rey considered this warning for what it was. She’d worked with difficult people before. She could do it again. But there was something strange about this situation, something that made her uneasy. Why had Ren never popped up on her radar before? Why did no one want to work with him? Why was Snoke so secretive? Why did Finn - sweet, loving Finn who could befriend literally anyone - dislike them so much?

That, more than anything, disturbed her. If Finn was so against these people, maybe they weren’t the sort of academics with whom she should collaborate. Maybe she was better off refusing to have anything to do with them.

But this was it - her big break, the thing that would allow her to finally, _finally_ make some headway towards her goals, her _dreams_. Grants from the FIH weren’t just free money; they were an opportunity, a chance to mold her future here as she saw fit and a gold star to put on her resume saying that she had _done_ something. _She_ had been chosen, her, Rey Niima from Jakku; her ideas had been good enough to win the attention of the funding board, her ideas had been worth the government’s investment. It was a godsend, honestly, as good as cementing her future in the field. And that wasn’t even counting how this grant would help her finances.

No. She’d worked too hard for this.

She refused to just let it slip through her fingers because of a potentially prickly collaborator.

“To be clear, I wouldn’t be working with Snoke,” she said slowly, knowing Finn was still expecting some kind of answer. “The grant is to work with Ren.”

“They’re connected - I don’t think you get one without the other.”

“But Snoke won’t be able to touch the funding,” she insisted. “The email said that Ren had applied for a similar grant - Ren, not Snoke. His name isn’t on the documents. It’ll be Ren’s funding, not Snoke’s. His and mine. If Snoke wants to interfere and dictate how we work, I’ll go above his head.”

“You’ll report him?”

“In a heartbeat.”

She wasn’t joking. This sort of grant would give her a lot of clout with the university. If she insisted that Snoke stay out of it… well, it’d be her way or they’d lose the money. And if there was one thing Rey had learned about academic finances, it was that they never wanted to lose easy money.

“Fair enough,” Finn relented. “And you know I’ll have your back if it comes to that. But what are you going to do about Ren?”

Rey hesitated, biting at her lip. “...he can’t be that bad,” she said finally. “Right?”

Finn sighed fondly. “Rey. Peanut. Platonic love of my life. I really can’t even explain how very wrong you are.”

* * * * *

“‘Anger issues, grumpy, moody man-child’.”

“What?” Rey looked up from her cup of tea. Finn had his phone out, thumbing at the screen as he browsed a website.

“One of Kylo Ren’s RateMyProfessor reviews,” he replied. “Thought I’d read it to you.”

Rey frowned. “Someone wrote that?”

“Here’s another: ‘This guy.’”

“...that’s it?”

“Accompanied by one little star and four spicy peppers.”

“Spicy peppers? What do the peppers mean?”

“It means he’s hot. Or, at least, amydwhite1792 thinks so. Oh, and listen to this one: ‘Dark forces are at work in this class.’” He fixed her with his most serious look. “Dark forces, Rey - never a good sign in a potential work partner.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Want some of my granny’s holy water? I think she has some in a spray bottle-“

“I am _not_ spritzing Kylo Ren with holy water!”

“...couldn’t hurt.”

“What’s it in a spray bottle for, anyways? Shouldn’t it be in a little bowl? So you can dip your fingers into it?”

“She sprays her cat with it when he’s getting too rowdy. Says it puts the fear of the Lord in him.”

Rey rolled her eyes and reached across the table, holding her hand out. “Let me see those reviews.” Finn dutifully gave her the phone, crossing his arms over his chest as she read in silence.

Most of the reviews were much more mundane - negative, for sure, but not quite so dramatic. A general complaint seemed to be the level of difficulty of the courses he taught. Students didn’t like how hard the assignments were, and Ren’s grading rubrics were nothing short of ruthless.

“So they’re mad he’s a tough teacher?” she asked, looking up after one particular review that reeked of entitled undergradute. She shook her head, sliding the phone back across the table. “That’s not my problem. I don’t need him to teach me.”

“They think he’s an ass,” Finn corrected.

“But how reliable are those reviews, anyway?” Rey shot back. “Disgruntled student upset they got a C leaves bad review for professor - shocker!” She gave her friend a wry grin. “I didn’t do so well myself on my first TA evaluations, if you’ll remember.”

“Peanut, you got a three out of five, and that one girl who bombed the exams called you ‘that British bitch’,” Finn replied. “Ren’s got a one-point-four average rating and someone called him a… ‘raging thundercunt with emo fuckboi looks’.” He considered for a moment, and then shrugged. “They’re not wrong.”

Rey had to resist shaking her head. “Brilliant insults aside, the point is that I don’t think it’s right to judge a guy off his internet reviews. I’ll form my own opinion once I’ve met him.”

Finn eyed her, as if sensing that she was getting testy. “You know I just want you to be careful,” he murmured. “These people… they’ve burned me before, Rey. Bad. I lost years of work because of them. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

She sighed, her annoyance fading in the face of such earnestness. “I know.”

That was likely the whole point of this reconnaissance meeting he’d suggested on the phone - he wanted her to know the truth about Ren and Snoke. To protect her, if he could, to keep her safe.

But she wasn’t going into this with nothing to barter. She knew her worth. She knew what she was bringing to the table. And she knew that this Kylo Ren needed her just as much as she needed him.

She would make this work.

She could do this.

She must’ve said this last aloud, for Finn nodded and squeezed her hand. “Give him hell, Peanut. Make sure he knows who’s boss.”

Her lips quirked up in a smile. “Damn straight.”

Her phone blipped with a message, and she looked down. “That’s Rose,” she said, thumbing to where the message was stored and reading over it. “She’s close.”

“Good timing. I need to get back to the lab anyways.” Finn drained the last of his coffee. “What are you two doing again?”

“Don’t be alarmed,” she started.

“Oh, Lord. Famous last words.”

“But we’re going to see if we can find him.”

“Ren? For _real,_ Rey?” He sighed, shaking his head at the ceiling.

“It was Rose’s idea,” Rey said quickly. “He’s as much of a mystery to her as he is to me.”

“So what, you’re gonna stalk him?”

“Stalk is a strong word.”

“What would you prefer then?”

“Watching without permission?”

Finn muttered something under his breath, but it was lost in the burst of sound that accompanied the door swinging open.

“Rey!”

Before Rey could get a word in, Rose had tackled her, throwing her arms around Rey’s neck.

“Oh my _god,_ I can’t believe it! You got it! The grant!”

“Can’t breathe,” Rey croaked, dragging her much smaller friend off. Still, she did it with a smile, grateful beyond words for her friends’ support.

“Right, sorry!” Rose pulled back, plopping down in the seat next to Finn. “This is so exciting. No one in the department’s gotten an FIH grant in _years._ Well, no one until you!”

“That’s our Rey,” Finn said proudly.

“So proud,” Rose whispered.

“Save it for when I have something to show for it,” Rey teased.

“Oh, you will! No doubts here! So, you ready to go?”

Rey nodded. “Ready.” She stood, grabbing her coat and bundling up against the mid-winter chill that waited just outside the door. “Finn, see you at dinner?”

“Dinner,” he confirmed. “Unless, you know, Kylo Ren sees you and kills you first.”

“Well, if that happens, I give you permission to write ‘I told you so’ on my tombstone. Better?”

“Promise?”

Rey leaned in, grinning. “I’ll do you one better - you can have them etch it in Comic Sans.”

* * * * *

“That’s him.” Rey pointed around the side of the bush, towards the man standing at the departmental bulletin board. She looked back down at her phone, eyeing the fuzzy, slightly out of focus picture of Kylo Ren on the faculty website. “I think.”

It was hard to tell, but the man down the hall had the same mop of dark, artfully messy hair adorning his head as the man in the photograph, the same prominent nose and full, almost pouty lips.

Beside her, Rose bent down, pushing aside a branch to peer straight through the ficus they were hiding behind. Attempting to hide behind, at least - it was fairly wilted from a lack of sunlight and Rey could tiptoe and see over the tops of its branches. But there wasn’t anything else to hide behind in the lobby, and she sure as hell wasn’t just going to stand in the middle of the room as she ogled her soon-to-be collaborator.

 _That_ would’ve been awkward.

“The bald guy?” Rose whispered, pointing in the wrong direction.

Rey shook her head. “No, not him, the other one.”

“Ah, the tall one.”

“How can you tell he’s tall? He’s a hundred feet away.”

“Shoe size.”

Rey’s eyes flicked down to Kylo Ren’s plain black shoes, which were, admittedly, rather large.

“You know what they say about guys with big feet?”

“That they have big hands?”

“...okay, sure, let’s go with hands.”

“Not what you were going for?”

“Not in the _slightest_ , Rey.”

It dawned on Rey what Rose was intimating, and she scrunched up her nose, pretending to be grossed out. “Ew, Rose, I’m going to be working with him.”

“So?”

“So I don’t want to be thinking about his-”

“What are you doing?”

Rey shot up, wincing as Rose stepped on her foot in her haste to back away from the plant. Great, as if what they were doing wasn’t odd enough - now they’d been caught at it. She turned, a flimsy excuse half-formed in her lips, only to relax when she saw who it was.

Jessika Pava had a hand on her hip, one eyebrow arched as she waited for the answer to her question.

“Stalking Kylo Ren,” Rose supplied, grinning.

Jessika blinked. “You’re joking. In _public_?” She looked around the lobby, dark eyes suspicious; not finding it to her liking, she jerked her head back towards a side room, indicating they should follow her. When they were safely concealed by the thick black door, she whirled around, dark hair whipping her shoulders.

“Are you _insane_?”

Rey blinked.

Rose chuckled nervously.

“Kylo Ren’s temper is legendary,” Jessika went on. “Trust me, you do not want to be on the receiving end of one of his tirades. And that’s exactly what would’ve happened if he’d caught you staring at him.”

“You say that like you’ve had it happen to you,” Rose asked.

“Oh no,” Jessika said, wrapping a fist around her hair and pulling it taut. “I’ve always kept my mouth shut around him. He just gives off that vibe, you know? Tall, dark, and stay the fuck away from me. But I did hear something once.”

“What?”

“Poe told me about it. You know, Kaydel, in Professor Organa’s lab?” Both Rey and Rose nodded. “She was waiting for him after a class one time, wanted to ask him a question about how they were splitting up grades for a class they were TA-ing. He was talking to a student, so she was just kinda standing around, waiting. But he saw her looking at him and went _off_ on her. No reason, she said. He just, y’know, snapped. Kaydel avoided Bingham Hall for weeks.”

“Jeez,” Rey muttered. “Bit of an overaction.”

“Right? And she was his co-TA. Like, if anyone had a reason to be talking to him, it was her.”

Rose shot Rey a concerned look. “And this is the guy you want to work with?”

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t _want_ to work with him,” Rey said. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have to. Otherwise, I don’t get the grant.”

“You got a grant?”

“She got _the_ grant!” Rose gushed.

Jessika looked to Rey, eyes wide, a smile forming on her lips. “Rey?”

“It’s from FIH,” Rey said, unable to keep from returning the grin. “Three years of funding.”

“Oh my god, how much?”

“Ninety-eight thousand, after the university takes their cut.”

“No!”

“It’s amazing!” Rose sighed. She put a hand on Rey’s arm, smiling. “Have I told you how happy I am for you?”

“Only three or four times,” Rey said, laughing.

“I’m laying it on thick, I know. But I can’t help it! You deserve this,” Rose said. “You really do, Rey.”

Rey beamed. “Thank you.”

“Okay, but wait,” Jessika said. “What does this have to do with Kylo Ren?”

“It’s funding for a collaboration,” Rey explained. “He and I seemed to have applied for the same grant, and the board thought our proposals could benefit from one another’s research. So they co-funded us.”

Jessika frowned. “That’s… unusual.” She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying and failing to find the words she wanted to say. “I… does that happen often?”

Rey shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it helped that we’re at the same university? Proximity, and all that?”

“Maybe.” Jessika didn’t sound convinced. “So wait, if you don’t work on this together, you don’t get the grant?”

Rey nodded.

“Lame,” Jessika sighed.

“Totally lame,” Rose added.

“It’s okay - really,” Rey said, noting Jessika’s raised eyebrows. “The grant has enough money for both of us, and they didn’t specify how we have to use the group portion.”

“So you can just share funding?”

“Something like that.”

Jessika shook her head. “Crazy,” she said. “But hey, any grant like that, you gotta do what you gotta do, yeah? You just tell us if he gives you trouble. We’ll make his life hell.”

Rey smiled. “That won’t be necessary,” she said, adding a silent _I hope_ in her head _._ “But thank you.”

“Just be careful? The guy’s got a reputation, and not a good one. Now, come on - if you’re going to stalk, I know a few places he likes to go. I’ll show you the best ones.”

“How do you know so much about Kylo Ren, Jessika?” Rose asked. “I’d never even heard of him until Rey mentioned him.”

“Poe, mostly. They’ve known each other since high school, apparently.”

“Really?” Rey asked. “He’s never mentioned Ren to me.”

“He doesn’t, usually, unless something happens like his fight with Kaydel. It’s a sore spot, I’ve gathered.”

“Were they friends once?” Rose asked.

“Something like that,” Jessika replied. “They had a bunch of classes together, studied together. But something must have happened, because Poe always has a sour look on his face when he talks about him.”

“A fight, maybe?” Rose suggested. “A falling out?”

Jessika shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Rey reached for the door. “Get Poe drunk,” she suggested, only half serious, “That generally gets him talking.” She pulled on the handle, leading the way out into the hall-

-and straight into a wall of dark, firm cloth and leather.

“Shit!”

She reeled, taking a step back, eyes going up and up and up and _up_ until they settled on a long face framed by dark hair, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Looking for someone?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finally gets to meet Kylo Ren - and quickly discovers that persuading him to work with her might be much, much difficult than she'd anticipated.

Rey’s mouth worked furiously as she tried to come up with an answer to the man’s question. She failed utterly, squirming under his dark gaze.

“It’s not polite to stare.”

Eyebrows snapping down into a frown, Rey crossed her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t staring,” she snapped.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he retorted.

“And that’s rich, coming from you, considering you were standing out here waiting to _ambush_ me.”

“I heard my name,” he said simply. “I wanted to know why you were talking about me.”

That was it, then - verbal confirmation that this was, indeed, Kylo Ren. How she’d never noticed him before, Rey would never know. He stood out like a sore thumb, with his black clothes and unruly hair. Not to mention his height -

“So?”

Rey blinked, her wandering eyes snapping back to Ren’s face. He looked annoyed, she noted, full lips drawn tight.

“So what?”

He rolled his eyes. “Why were you talking about me?” he asked, voice deceptively calm.

“I - I needed to speak with you.”

It wasn’t _technically_ a lie, even if she’d wanted to get a good look at him rather than actually start up a conversation - but Ren seemed disinclined to believe her anyways, eyes narrowing.

“About?”

“Research.”

He hesitated. “My research?”

Rey had to fight rolling her eyes. “Yes, _your_ research.”

“I don’t accept undergraduate assistants,” he informed her.

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not trying to be one, then,” she retorted.

He eyed her, suspicion on his face. Did he think she was lying? Frantically trying to backpedal now that she knew he wasn’t interested in any sort of help?

“What do you want?” he asked again, voice sharper this time. “What do you _really_ want?”

“I told you - I need to talk to you.”

She folded her arms over her chest, stubborn to the last. She could have just admitted he truth - that she needed him to agree to this grant so that they could get their funding, that she needed him to agree to work together. But now that she’d met Ren, something told her that she was going to have to work to convince him that this was in their best interest. She might even have to beg him for it.

And that wasn’t something she wanted to do in a hallway.

So she stuck to her guns, saying nothing more, watching as Ren’s frustration was replaced with anger.

He made a scornful noise, looking down his long nose at her.. “And you couldn’t have come to me directly?” he demanded. “I have an office.”

“I don’t know where it is.”

“Bingham 212. Next time, make an appointment.”

And just like that, he turned, heading towards the stairs, effectively ending the conversation. Rey watched him go, still too flustered to do more than glare at his retreating back.

“Rey?”

Rose put a hand on her shoulder, concerned.

Rey relaxed, unfurling fists she hadn’t realized she’d clenched. “I’m fine,” she said, half-turning towards her friend. “It’s - really, it’s okay.”

“He’s a jerk,” Rose insisted.

“A jerk you _were_ technically spying on in broad daylight.” Jessika threw her hands up defensively at the incredulous look Rose shot her. “I’m just saying! I’d be curious if I knew someone was snooping on me, too.” She paused, frowning. “I wonder how he heard us, though? Maybe I didn’t close the door all the way…” She bent down, inspecting the handle as if it were to blame.

Rey shook her head. “He probably just walked past and heard us,” she said. “We weren’t exactly being quiet.”

“Yeah, this door’s fucking solid,” Jessika announced, straightening. She shrugged, shooting Rey an apologetic look. “Guess it was just bad luck.”

“Come on,” Rose said, slipping an arm through Rey’s. “Let’s go before he comes back for round two.”

Rey didn’t think that was going to happen, but she let Rose lead her outside anyways. With Ren gone, it wasn’t as if she had a reason to be in the building.

They walked in near silence until they got back to where Rose had parked her car. Jessika left them at the corner, saying something about getting back to work on her projects. Rey and Rose waved good-bye, Rey thinking perhaps she should get back to work on her own research, when Rose spoke. 

“I gotta get home and study,” she said. “Got that big stats test tomorrow - Rey, you wanna come?”

Crap - she’d forgotten all about the test. In her excitement over getting the grant, she’d completely blanked on the fact that the exam was tomorrow morning and she’d yet to study for it. It was the first one of the new semester, and she wanted to do well.

It would also, she told herself, be a perfect distraction from Kylo Ren and their previous conversation.

She’d have to go see him now, she realized. There was no getting out of it - not when she’d clammed up and said she wanted to know about his _research._ He’d probably be expecting her to come visit during his office hours.

Did he even know who she was? He hadn’t bothered to ask her name.

...Unless he already knew it.

“Rey?”

Rey blinked. “Hmm?”

“Study? Me, you, pizza? If it gets truly desperate, some wine?”

Rey smiled, though it did little to ease the unease settling into the pit of her stomach. 

"Throw in some garlic bread, and it's a date."

* * * * *

The email was still open on his laptop, words frozen on the screen.

Ben Solo couldn’t quite bring himself to look at them.

He’d gotten the message this morning, along with a barrage of advertisements, university updates, and pleas from students to extend the deadline on their homework. It had stood out in a sea of junk mail, more important than perhaps any other message he’d ever gotten in his life.

If it was an acceptance, that is.

If not, it was just another monumental failure to throw on the pile that was his life in academia thus far.

The thought of reading the email from the FIH had made him sick to his stomach, and so he’d ignored it all day, pushing it from his mind while he lectured and graded papers. It was easy enough to do - he’d taken on an extra course this semester, having finally convinced the board to let him teach a seminar on famous serial killers. It was gratifying, to actually see the interest in students’ eyes when he talked, for once; it was almost enjoyable, even. But it was still an extra four to five hours a week of preparation, and it cut into his free time significantly.

Some days, it annoyed the shit out of him.

Today, it had felt like a godsend.

But he couldn’t put it off any longer. It was nearly ten o’clock at night, most of the university staff long since having gone home. He was utterly alone in his office, the lamp on his desk the only source of light in the room. He’d graded all his exams, typed out instructions for the next batch of assignments, and entered the grades into the online system. He’d then cleaned up his desk, taken out of his office garbage, and eaten one disgustingly large cheeseburger from a place down the street.

He’d run out of things with which to delay.

Snoke would tell him he was being foolish - to just open the damn thing and be done with it. But then again, Snoke was wont to call him foolish no matter _what_ he was doing, so maybe his wasn’t the voice of reason that he should listen to.

Still...

He really _should_ open it.

With a huff of annoyance - at himself, at Snoke, at the stupid ant that kept crawling across his desk, looking from a crumb - he clicked on the email, maximizing the window, and began to read.

_Mr. Ren,_

_Thank you for taking the time to apply for the PSY3016-B grant funded by the Federal Institute of Health. There was a strong group of applicants this year from a variety of different fields…_

It was the same sort of generic bullshit all these letters contained.

Thanks for applying.

Lots of good applications.

He half-wondered if they were _trying_ to sound insincere, or if that was just how it was coming across.

_We are delighted to inform you that your proposal to study the effects of psychopathy on child behavior in orphanages and the foster care system has been approved. We believe that your research has the potential to greatly advance the knowledge of the field, and the potential applications of your work in society are not to be underestimated._

...what?

 _That_ was new.

Ben leaned forward, rereading the paragraph. He’d… he’d gotten the grant? He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He’d been trying to get this research funded for years; he had good ideas, he knew he did, the kind FIH normally ate up. But every year, something or other had happened and he’d not made it past the final stage in the funding process. There was always one proposal better than his, or there just wasn’t enough money left for him, or his application had come in a day late. Honestly, he half-thought someone was out to get him, making sure he wasn’t successful. But he couldn’t think of anyone who would want to do that to him.

Well.

Anyone who _would_ do that to him.

He could think of plenty of people who’d love to watch him fail. But they were all cowards, unwilling to challenge him or actually try to make his life miserable.

The joke was on them.

He was already miserable.

But this - if it was real, not a joke, then this could be his break, the start of something new. This grant could be the key to getting others, and if he pulled in more money, maybe the university would offer him a formal faculty position, a lab of his own, and he could get out of his, out of Snoke’s grasp -

No.

He stopped himself right there, forcing the traitorous thoughts away. He knew better than to hope things would just get better at the drop of a hat. Things didn’t work way in real life.

Not for him.

He looked back at the email, forcing himself to read the rest of it.

_However, we feel as if your research could benefit from another perspective - particularly one involving developmental psychology. For that reason, we would like you to work with another applicant in your department, and are co-sponsoring you to work alongside one R. Niima, graduate research assistant to professor -_

Ben stopped reading after that, sitting back in his chair as anger began coursing through him.

Of course.

Of _fucking_ course there would be a catch. Leave it to the FIH to finally deem him worthy of any sort of outside funding and then put stipulations on it. He didn’t even get to use the money he’d worked so hard to get.

And this grad student, this - R. Niima.

He switched to his web browser, going straight to the department webpage. He wanted to see them - he wanted to see this punk the government had deigned worthy of sharing this grant with him. They’d better fucking know what they were doing; he didn’t have time to babysit some newly minted grad student fresh out of undergrad who didn’t know the difference between-

But of course they were.

He cursed, looking at the blank page bearing the name ‘R. Niima’. There was nothing. No description, no list of prior published works, no picture. Nothing. All of which ensured that he was dealing with someone who’d not even finished up their fucking _g_ _en_ _eds_.

It got worse.

Whoever, they were, they were working with _him._ His uncle. That traitorous, lying, hypocritical sack of-

Ben forced himself to take a deep breath, looking away from the screen lest he be hit with a sudden desire to punch it.

This R. Niima...

Were they that good? Had their proposal been so thought-out, so thoroughly researched and thoughtfully created?

Or were they just plain lucky?

Ben didn’t know. Ben didn’t really care.

What he did care about was the knowledge that he had to work with this person if he wanted to get his funding. He had no choice - it was this or nothing. And the thought of going to Snoke and telling him he’d come up empty-handed _again…_

But - Skywalker.

The thought of working with one of Skywalker’s people - he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it.

He slammed his computer shut in frustration.

* * * * *

Rey stood in front of the aging Bingham Humanities Building, two to-go cups in her hands, trying not to look as nervous as she felt.

She was doing it.

She was going in.

She was going to tell Kylo Ren that she was Rey Niima, and then beg him to agree to the demands of their grant.

The coffee would help, she hoped. Academics loved coffee - it might as well have flowed in their veins instead of blood, as much as they seemed to rely on the stuff. She’d never much cared for it - too bitter, or too sweet, if prepared with milk and sugar. She much preferred tea, with a single spoonful of honey and maybe a bit of lemon. It wasn’t as cloying, wasn’t as rich.

Ren, she imagined, preferred coffee though. Black coffee, she guessed. Or at least, she hoped he did. Overwise, she’d be out the four seventy-five she’d spent at the coffee shop.

Steeling herself, she walked in the front door, immediately heading down the stairs towards the basement. That was where his office was located; she’d checked almost as soon as she’d gotten back to Rose’s apartment last night. Somehow, a basement lab suited him. He didn’t seem the type to enjoy the big windows and leafy plants that adorned all of Bingham’s upper levels.

She wondered what his office _would_ look like then. Messy? Organized to a fault? The latter, she quickly decided. Neat and tidy, with really big books lining the walls. No knick-knacks, no plants - certainly nothing that wasn’t entirely functional. Not like her own office at all; it was tiny, filled to bursting with plants and textbooks and the university paraphernalia that’d been Luke’s first present to her. Pennants, beer coozies, a giant stuffed eagle wearing a little university sweatshirt.

Yeah, she really doubted Kylo Ren had Stormy the War Eagle sitting on his desk.

The thought made her laugh a bit, and she was still smiling when she finally reached door 212.

It was open, light streaming out into the hallway. She could hear someone bustling around inside, flipping over papers.

Rey cleared her throat, tapping her foot on the door frame to catch Ren’s attention.

His head shot up, dark eyes catching hers as he looked first at her and then at the cups in her hands.

“Hello,” she said brightly. “I came during your office hours this time.”

He didn’t respond.

So Rey stepped inside, offering him the coffee she’d bought. “I got you coffee,” she said. “It’s just black - I wasn’t sure how you’d like it.”

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

She blinked. “Bribe you?”

“I don’t give out grades. You earn them.”

“I’m not one of your students.”

He paused. “Then why did you get me coffee?”

“I… well, I’d thought… look, I really do need to talk to you about something,” Rey replied, shifting from one foot to the other. “I thought coffee might make things less awkward.”

“How?”

“...gives you something to do with your hands?”

After a moment’s consideration, he snorted, setting his pen down on the stack of papers before him. “I guess it does,” he said, reaching out for the coffee. She grinned, handing it over, and he motioned to the seat across from him. “But I haven’t got all day. Whatever you wanted to talk about, make it quick.”

“Of course,” she said. She waited until he’d taken a sip of the coffee - as it was, confirming her suspicions that he preferred it black - before she continued. “I’m Rey. I just started last semester.”

“You’re a graduate student,” he guessed. “Professor Organa’s lab?”

She frowned. “No - why would you think I was in-”

“Because that’s where everyone goes,” he said. “Everyone wants to work with her.”

“And you don’t?”

“No.”

...alright. Rey shook her head, deciding to move the conversation away from herself. “And you’re Kylo Ren.”

He stared at her. “Are you asking me, or telling me?”

“That’s - neither.” She shook her head, confused. Was he playing dumb? Did he not know what she was getting at? Perhaps she'd better make herself clear. “You got the email, right?”

“What email?”

“The one from FIH - about the grant.”

He frowned, setting the coffee down on his desk. “How do you know about that?”

“Because I’m Rey,” she said slowly. “And you’re - we’re supposed to work together-”

She stopped at his startled intake of breath. His eyes had gone wide, huge and dark in his long, pale face.

“You’re her,” he breathed. “R. Niima.”

“I… I guess so.” She offered him a tentative smile. “Unless there’s someone else running around here with my last name.” He didn’t say anything to that, just continued to stare at her, and Rey shifted, uncomfortable, her smile slipping a bit.

This was going… poorly. Had she started too friendly? Perhaps she should have been more business-like in her approach. Maybe she should’ve done it over email, instead of insisting on face-to-face communication. God, why had she thought buying him _coffee_ was a good idea-

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You need to leave.”

“But we haven’t discussed anything-”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” he snapped.

His sudden anger might have cowed other people - but not Rey. The more she looked at his face, the angrier she got herself, her fingers on her cup tight. “We at least need to decide whether or not to accept the grant,” she said. “That’s not nothing.”

“I refuse.”

“To what, talk to me?” She scowled. “That’s rather childish, don’t you think-”

“I refuse the grant.”

She was so startled, a laugh poured from her lips. “You can’t be serious!”

He just glared at her, and her humor faded.

“It’s from FIH!” she said, indignant. “One of the most prestigious research organizations in the country! Why on earth would you refuse? Do you have something better lined up?”

“No.”

“Do you not want to do this research anymore, then?”

His hands were clenched into fists on the armrests of his chair, his jaw tight with strain. “No.”

“Then what reason could you _possibly_ have for not wanting to do this?”

“You’re _his,_ ” Ren seethed, leaning forward in his chair. “You’re one of _his_ pet projects.”

“What in the world are you talking about-”

“Skywalker.”

Rey sat back, mouth snapping shut.

“You work with him,” he continued, open contempt written on his face. “You’re his protege.”

“I’m in his lab, not his chosen successor-”

“It’s the same difference. You work with him, you chose him, he’s your _mentor._ ”

“And?” she demanded. “What do you have against Luke?”

“ _Everything._ ” He sat back and looked away, picking up his pen to resume his grading. “We’re done here. I have work to do. Leave.”

Rey sat there, numb. That was it? That was the end of this discussion? He wasn’t even going to consider the thought of them working together on this. That much was clear. Whatever it was that he held against Luke, it had to be substantial if he was being so adamant about refusing. She had to fight not to panic; she could practically feel the opportunity slipping out of her fingers, and her mind scrambled, fighting to find a way to keep things together.

But how?

How could she convince this… this _jackass_ to talk with her, when he seemed so dead set on ignoring her?

She stood, setting her jaw stubbornly.

Maybe she couldn’t change his mind. Maybe nothing she said or did would be enough. But she’d be _damned_ if she gave up without one last try. She’d worked too hard to get here, spent way too much time and energy on this grant to just _give up._

She slammed a hand down on the desk, leaning forward.

“Listen to me,” she said. “You need this grant - I know you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have applied for it. You can pretend that it’s nothing, that refusing the funding wouldn’t hurt your research, but you can’t fool me. You’re desperate.”

“You know nothing-”

“I’m not finished!” she snapped. The glare he sent her could have stripped paint off a wall, but she plowed on, her temper fueling her indignation. “You need me as much as I need you, and you know it as well as I do. Now, I don’t know what you have against Luke. I don’t get it. But Luke’s not a part of this project - I kept his name off the application on purpose, on _his_ suggestion. You’d be working with _me,_ not Luke.”

“It’s the same thing-”

“Like hell it is!”

Now it was Ren’s turn to stand, towering over her from the other side of the desk. “Counter-offer,” he spat, leaning forward. “Drop him.”

“What?”

“Drop him as your advisor.”

Rey jerked away, incredulous. “Are you out of your _mind_?”

“Drop him as your advisor, and I’ll take the grant,” he shot back.  

“I can’t do that!”

“None of the other professors in the department would take you on?”

“That’s - we don’t have time to go through a transfer! That would take weeks! And I’m not going to drop Luke just because you don’t like him, you utter _ass!_ ”

“Then it appears we’re at an impasse.”

“It appears so,” she snapped. “For the record, I think you’re being stupid.”

“For the record, I don’t give a shit.”

She stomped over to the door, eager to leave and be rid of him. Pompous, _fucking_ jerk. Still, she couldn’t help but turn back, giving him one last look. He wouldn’t meet her gaze, instead staring down at the floor, fists at his side. Her anger gave way to frustration at the pain on his face, and she took one step back, curious.

Why would he look hurt? What  _right_ did he have to look that sad? He was the one being stubborn here, not her! 

All he had to do was accept.  

But Rey knew more than anyone that things weren't always so simple, and trying to force Ren's hand wasn't likely to get her anywhere.

“Look, I don’t know what sort of bad blood you have with Luke,” she said. “And I'm sorry if you two... if something... I'm sorry if something happened there. But I meant what I said. This is _my_ research, not his. Anything we do? He’s not a part of it. Or he doesn’t have to be. Just…” She sighed, uncertain why she was even bothering. He hadn’t once looked up at her during her plea. “I need this. It would change… everything for me. And I know it would change things for you, too.”

Silence.

Utter, complete silence.

She sighed and left him standing there, trudging her way up to the building’s entrance. Every footstep felt heavy; it was so hard to just walk away like this. It felt like she was turning her back on everything she’d worked so hard to achieve. But what else could she do?

She’d asked him nicely.

She’d begged.

But she couldn’t stop him from saying no. That wasn't up to her.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out, seeing a text message from Finn.

**< Finn  > How’d it go? **

She didn’t bother typing out a response. Instead, she hit the call button and brought the phone up to her ear. He picked up almost immediately.

“What’s wrong, Peanut?” he asked, concerned.

She bit back a weak smile - of course Finn wouldn’t have to guess at what had happened. He’d just know. He was intuitive that way, far better at reading people and situations than she was. But then again, he’d grown up surrounded by other people.

She hadn’t.

“He said no, Finn,” she admitted, leaning against a nearby tree.

“What?” he asked. “What d’you mean, he said no? Is he stupid?”

“Stubborn’s more like it, I think. I don’t get it, Finn - I don’t understand how it went wrong so quickly. As soon as he realized who I was, and that I’ve been working with Luke, he just - snapped.”

“Snapped?” Finn repeated slowly. “You mean… Rey, did he get violent?”

“What? No, nothing like that,” she said, quick to assure her friend. “He just - his whole demeanor changed, like a light had shut off or something. He didn’t want to talk to me, kept disagreeing with everything that I said, even when I told him Luke wasn’t going to be involved.”

Finn made a disgusted noise. “Crap, Rey, that… I’m sorry, Peanut,” he said.

“He wouldn’t even look at me at the end of it.” She shuffled, kicking a rock and watching it skitter across the pavement. “What do I do now, Finn? I can’t get that funding without his consent.”

“I tell you what we do,” he said. “We get a big envelope, fill it with glitter, and mail to his house, the stupid, grade-A, primo flaming _douche_ -”

The rest of Finn’s insult was drowned out by the sound of Bingham’s heavy glass doors slamming open. Rey turned, startled - her mouth promptly falling open in surprise when Kylo Ren stalked out into the courtyard, looking around until his eyes settled on her. 

He made a beeline straight towards her, dark eyes blazing.

“Finn, I’ll call you back,” Rey said quickly, already bringing the phone away from her ear.

Ren stopped a few feet away from her, chest heaving like he’d run all the way here. And maybe he had, Rey thought, noting that he wasn’t wearing a coat and his pen was still in his hand.

But what did he want?

She raised an eyebrow at him, trying to look calmer than she felt. “What?”

“I’ll accept the grant.”

She couldn’t hide her shock, lips curling up into a smile despite herself. Had she done it? Had she somehow gotten through to him? A part of her wondered if she'd guilt-tripped him into, and while she'd normally feel sorry for doing something like that, right now, she couldn't convince herself to question it. “You-”

He held up a hand. “But I have conditions.”

Her words died in her throat.

Conditions - of course he had conditions.

But she really wasn’t in a place where she could refuse him outright. She had to at least hear him out.

And who knew? Maybe they wouldn't be unreasonable.

Maybe.

“Alright,” she said, pocketing her phone. “Name them.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ren have their first research-related discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how it long to took to get this out! You'd think that your work hiring someone new to take the burden off you would increase your free time - until they tell you you're stuck training them for the next week :)
> 
> Bolded lines are text messages, with the message's sender appearing before the body of the message :)

“One - no Skywalker and no-”

Finn leaned forward, squinting at the piece of paper in his hand.

“Snoke,” Rey supplied, leaning over to steal one of his fries. “That says Snoke.”

Finn snorted. “If you say so. Okay, so no Skywalker and Snoke. That makes sense, I guess. Keeps the big baddies out of things. Moving on, then - two, all work will be done in Ren’s lab.” He blinked. “Isn’t his lab the creepy one in the basement? The one that makes all of those weird noises?”

“Nothing for it,” Rey said. “He’s next to the boiler room.”

“...is that supposed to make it less weird?”

“No, but there’s your reason for the noises.”

“Okay, well if all the lights go off and you start hearing metal claws scraping on the walls-”

Rey laughed. “Did you just compare Kylo Ren to Freddy Krueger?”

Finn grinned. “Maybe.”

Rey grabbed another fry, still grinning as she shoved it in her mouth. “Keep going,” she said. “There’s a few more demands there.”

“Three - any conferences, presentations, or meetings will take prevalence-”

“Precedence!”

“That’s a C?”

“Oh, come on, Finn-”

“-will take precedence over classwork and other commitments.” That one had Finn frowning a bit, and he looked over to her, concerned. “He does know you have to keep in good standing to get your stipend, right?”

“It won’t be a problem,” Rey said.

“You sure?”

She shrugged. “I’ve only got a few more classes ‘til I’m done with my core requirements. Then I sit for my master’s. Besides, I only need to pass them. I don’t have to ace anything.”

The idea that she no longer had to bust her ass to get good grades was still odd to Rey. She hadn’t believed it, at first. But Jessika had told her that she’d nearly bombed cognitive psych, and Poe had admitted he’d barely even shown up to graduated research methods and writing, and if they’d managed to move on and pass their qualifying exams… well, she supposed it had to be true.

A good thing, too, considering how the stats exam this morning had murdered her.

“Still,” Finn persisted, “I don’t like that he’s trying to dictate how you spend your time. You’re here for _you_ , not him.”

“I know.”

“Rey…”

She sighed, sitting up straight. “Finn, I _know_ ,” she stressed. She smiled, reaching out and grasping his forearm. “I don’t plan on spending my every waking moment with him. God, no. I’d go completely mental. But if agreeing to make our joint research a priority makes him happy? Yeah, I’ll agree to it.”

“So you’re not really gonna stick to these terms,” he said flatly, brandishing the paper in his hands.

“They’re more _guidelines_ than actual rules,” she said. “Besides, they’re not really that unreasonable.”

He stared down at what he’d just read. “I guess not,” he agreed.

“His lab, while yes, super creepy, _is_ bigger than mine,” she explained. “Snoke doesn’t have any other students, either, and he never comes in, apparently, so we’ll get to use it exclusively. And honestly, we should be giving this research priority - they’re giving us free money to do it.”

Finn made a noncommittal noise, finally swatting her hand away when she reached out to steal another bite. “Thief,” he said.

“But they’re so good-”

“I asked if you wanted me to bring you any!”

“I didn’t know you were going to Frank’s!”

Finn shook his head, pushing the basket towards her, and Rey gleefully dug in, not bothering with grace or manners. She’d not eaten all day, not since she’d left Ren standing in that courtyard. She’d been too… nervous wasn’t the right way to put it. Jittery? Apprehensive? Wound up so tight she didn’t know how to come down?

Whatever it was, it had put her off food, and she’d buried herself in her work instead, only emerging when Finn had swung by to pick her up. Only now, sitting on the couch in the shabby little two-bedroom unit they shared, was her appetite making itself known.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Finn teased, watching her wolf down the remaining fries. “Those fries are worth their weight in gold.”

“So good,” she agreed.

“So, this it?” he asked, standing up. “He didn’t make any weird… requests?”

Rey eyed her friend. “Weird how?”

“I dunno,” he said, shrugging his sleeves up as he got to work on the dishes in the sink. “A monthly blood sacrifice, the rights to your firstborn child-”

Rey laughed. “No, nothing like that.”

“No procuring of virgins, or the hair of a black cat-”

“You know, now that you mention it-”

A pan clanged as it fell from Finn’s hands.

“ _What?!_ ”

“God, I’m joking,” Rey teased. She tossed the trash in the bin and stood, slinging an arm around Finn’s shoulders. “He asked for my number, so he can contact me, and that’s it.”

Finn huffed. “It starts with your number,” he muttered. “Next thing, it’s a piece of your hair, then an old sweater, and-”

“You watch too many horror movies.”

“Only in hopes that someone big and strong will come hold my hand.”

“My hand isn’t enough?” Rey pretended to be outraged.

“Hell no,” Finn retorted. “You’re too strong - last time, you nearly broke my thumb. I _need_ that.”

“You shouldn’t have picked a demon movie, then,” she said airily. “You know what they do to me.”

He snorted. “I’ll try to remember that for next time - slasher films, it is!”

* * *

 

The next morning dawned bright and early.

Rey was up with the sun, taking a quick shower and slipping into a comfy pair of jeans. It promised to be a cold day, smoke rising from the chimneys that dotted her view in the kitchen window. She’d have to remember to take her good coat; not that it did much to stave off the chill. The holes in the sleeves and the ratty old fabric ensured that. But it was good enough for now. It’d have to be, until she could scrounge up for another.

She hummed to herself as she moved about the kitchen, being quiet so as not to wake Finn. It wasn’t unusual for her to wake up before him; she’d always been more of a morning person, and eight o’clock classes and morning seminars had only reinforced the habit. But Finn would always grumble and shake his head when he crawled out of bed at noon and found her bright-eyed and cheerful. She felt it only polite that she at least attempt to keep quiet on weekdays.

Grabbing a stool, she sat down at the counter, bagel in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. This - this was her favorite time of day. A warm mug in her hand, good food in her belly, sun shining through the window, peace and quiet… Some people might call her strange for liking to eat breakfast alone; she preferred to think of it as practical. She liked the quiet bit of time each morning when she didn’t have to think. She could center herself, prepare to tackle the day. The calm was soothing, peaceful - when it wasn’t interrupted, that was.

As was currently the case, her phone beginning to buzz insistently with an incoming call.

She picked it up, looking down at the tiny screen. She didn’t recognize the number calling her, though it was from the same area code as her own number. Some undergrad trying to ask her a question about the class she assisted, maybe? Or one of the many university offices? It could be important.

Rey swallowed the bit of bagel in her mouth and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“We need to discuss how to integrate our research plans.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as Kylo Ren’s voice filtered through the speaker. Of _course_ it was him; she should’ve guessed. Who else would be calling her at… she looked down at her watch.

“It’s six-thirty in the morning,” she said.

“I have classes until noon, but I’m free this afternoon.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Are you free at two?”

“Who calls this early?” she demanded.

“You’re awake.”

“So?”

“So am I inconveniencing you?”

“...I suppose not.”

“Then tell me: are you free at two?”

Rey ran through her schedule, trying to remember what it was she had planned for the day. “I think so,” she said.

“Meet me in my office.”

Just like that, he hung up.

Rey stared at her hand for a moment, the phone screen going blank. That was it? That was all that he’d had to say? No greeting, no asking how she was, no polite inquiries as to her-

She snorted. No, of course not. He didn’t seem the type to care about that kind of thing. He was a strictly business kind of person, she was quickly discovering, his priority whatever task was at hand. Why waste time on small talk when you could just _rudely get to the point?_

It made her angry - irrationally so. Who treated people like that? Like they were… things, or means to an end? She didn’t expect everyone in the world to like her or try to be her friend. She _hardly_ expected Ren capable of either. But was it so hard to expect some basic civility? Some manners?

 _Twat,_ she thought sourly, pocketing the phone and grabbing what was left of her bagel as she made for the door. In her anger, she slammed it a little harder than was necessary, and she winced, hoping she hadn’t woken Finn.

She took a deep breath, leaning her head against the wall.

Seven hours.

She had seven hours until they had to meet. She could regain her composure by then. She could throw herself into her work, lose herself in her classes, completely ignore anything and everything that reminded her of him and his stupid phone call.

Or so she hoped.

* * *

Rey’s frustration _had_ ebbed by the time two o’clock rolled around - though it wasn’t because she’d been able to focus on something else. Rather, Luke had shown up at noon with two piping hot pizzas in tow, and Rey, never able to resist free food, had happily accepted the invite to lunch. She’d probably indulged a little _too_ much, if the drowsiness she was experiencing was any indication.

She hoped Ren’s idea of discussion didn’t involve anything too complex.

When she arrived at his office, right on time, she paused. The door was open, raised voices echoing out into the hallway.

“You’re stalling. I hate it when you stall.”

Rey didn’t recognize the voice, but she instantly disliked its owner. Nasally, with an inflection that insinuated superiority, it grated against her nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Ren, it seemed, shared the distaste, for when he replied, his voice was flat and dismissive.

“I’m waiting for the opportune moment.”

“You know that will only make the eventual conversation worse.”

“Thank you for your opinion. I’ll take it into consideration along with every other stupid idea you’ve ever had.”

The stranger sniffed. “Have it your way,” he said. “It’s more fun to watch you flounder than succeed, anyways.”

Something smashed against the wall - glass, by the sounds of it - and Rey started, wary. Had Ren… had he _thrown_ something? His visitor sounded annoying, yes, but to actually try to harm him? She took a half-step forward, concerned.

She needn’t have worried.

A moment later, a pale faced man with surprisingly vibrant red stepped out into the hallway, the very picture of smug satisfaction as he stuck his hands in his pockets and strode towards her. Rey found herself wanting to smack the smirk off his face as he eyed her up and down, for no reason other than that she could.

“You must be the graduate student Ren’s being forced into worked with,” he said.

“So what if I am?” Rey shot back.

His gaze stayed fixed on her ratty old book bag, lip sneering as he took in the holes and scratches. “The FIH must be desperate indeed if they’re giving handouts to those simply taking up space.”

“Excuse me?” Rey gaped at him, offended at the insinuation. “You - you -“ She couldn’t even think of a word to say. It was just so _rude._

“Articulate, I see,” the man said. “I’ll wait while you come up whatever insult you think most appropriate.”

Nothing.

She had _nothing._

Sensing her utter bewilderment, he clicked his heels together, smirk deepening. “Nothing to say? Well, then. I’ll leave you to it. With your eloquence, you and Ren must be a match made in academic heaven.”

Rey stood there, seething, as he stepped around her and continued down the hall. She felt rooted to the spot, absolutely cut to the quick - and by a stranger, no less, one who appeared to enjoy being purposefully nasty. She shouldn’t let his words bother her; he didn’t even _know_ her.

“Ignore him.”

She turned to see Ren had poked his head out into the hall, an empty dust pan in his hands - no doubt wondering why she hadn’t come into his office. She hastily did so, pulling her coat a little tighter around her frame, as if that could keep her wounded pride from showing.

“Friend of yours?” she asked, taking the seat across from the desk.

It looked exactly the same as it had yesterday - clean, organized, a stack of papers beside an old desktop computer. A bundle of pens - all black - sat in a cup near the keyboard, and several notes were taped to the monitor. The handwriting was exceedingly good, she noticed - his?

Huh.

“Hardly,” Ren scoffed. The door shut behind him with a solid click, and a few quick steps had him at her side, leaning against the desk.

“How do you know him then?”

“He’s Snoke’s personal assistant - and a professional asswipe.” He looked down at her, eyes flicking over her face. “You shouldn’t listen to him. He was trying to get under my skin - you just happened to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Seems like he succeeded,” she said quietly.

“What?”

She jerked her head back, towards the pan he’d discarded a moment ago. “I heard glass breaking.”

He merely blinked. “Perhaps I wanted to redecorate.”

Was that a joke? Rey wanted to laugh, but the way he’d said it, along with his stoic expression, had her wondering if maybe she shouldn’t. She stifled the noise, biting her lips to keep from making a sound.

“Do you have the papers you submitted with your grant?”

He moved across from her, taking a seat at his desk. One hand reached down into a drawer, pulling out an envelope stuffed to the brim. Inside was a stack of papers, which he set on the desk between them. His proposal, Rey assumed. His very _thorough_ proposal, from the size of it.

“Not with me,” she admitted. She quickly added, “But I can email them to you.”

He nodded. “I want to read them myself.” He pushed the pages forward, tapping the top with one long finger. “Here. This was what I submitted.”

She reached out to take it, the bundle heavier than she had expected. Gods, but it was thick - he’d written all of _this_ for a grant? On Luke’s advice, she’d kept her own admission short and sweet, straight to the point. Too fancy, he’d said, and the funding board wouldn’t give it a second look. Too pompous, and they’d throw it straight in the trash.

How did he know, she’d asked - had he served on the committee before?

He’d just laughed, a sparkle in his eyes as he said that ninety percent of the grants he’d submitted had been rejected outright.

“Just the way it works, kid,” he’d said. “Just how it goes.”

Not wanting to learn how it worked the hard way, she’d taken his advice, barely even reaching the minimum length requirement on a few sections. Ren, on the other hand, clearly hadn’t been afraid to do some elaborating.

“Aren’t you going to read it?”

Rey blinked, surprised. “What, now?” He nodded. “I mean, I guess I can, but I’m…” She cleared her throat. “I’m not the fastest reader.”

His stare had her flushing.

“I can wait.”

“No, you don’t - it’s not that simple.”

He lifted an eyebrow, waiting on her answer. Realizing she wouldn’t get out of it that easily, Rey sighed. “Look, I didn’t learn to read until I was ten,” she explained. “I figured it out eventually, and I get through things just fine, but I’m still slow. It takes me a while.” She sighed, looking down at the stack of papers in her hands. “But if you insist…”

“Why?”

She knew what he was asking. And truth be told, it was a long story - one she didn’t really have time to do justice. So she gave him the short version, keeping it simple as she described how she’d grown up on the streets of London, only getting taken in by the foster care system when she’d gotten too big to slip away from the police via her usual paths. They’d not even put her in a school at first, her education so remedial that it was judged she needed one-on-one attention. But she’d always been a quick learner, and by the time she’d graduated high school, she’d been mostly back on track.

She hated mentioning it. People always look at her with pity in their eyes when she told the story - pity she’d not had parents to care for her, pity she’d not found her way into the system earlier, pity she’d had to fend for herself.

She didn’t want it. She didn’t need it.

But it wasn’t pity she saw in Ren’s dark eyes. It was something… appreciative, something almost approving.

“You turned a weakness into a strength,” he said once she was finished.

She shrugged. “I had to,” she replied.

It was the truth, after all - not being able to read hadn’t been an option. She’d done what she’d had to do. It had been difficult, full of long nights spent working her way through books, her reading agonizingly slow. But she’d persisted, refusing to let the words win - and now look what she had to show for it. Top test scores, a fully funded graduate education, and a grant in her pocket.

Not bad for a former street rat, if she didn’t say so herself.

“Read it when you can, then,” Ren said, his soft voice pulling her from her thoughts. “As I’ll do with yours.”

She nodded, carefully putting the stack in her bag.

“If you’re…” He paused, and Rey looked up to see a pained expression on his face. “If you’re _his_ student, then I assume you’re in the experimental program?”

“With a focus on child development. And you, I’ve heard you’re clinical?” She wondered absently if he was also a therapist, as many clinicians were. She doubted it, but then again, therapists weren’t _always_ warm and friendly and kind. It was… within the realm of possibility. Barely.

“I study child and adolescent psychopathy.”

“Seems a… heavy topic.”

“It is. But someone has to research it.”

“And do you help them? Psychopathic children?”

“My work is applicable to them, if that’s what you mean.”

She huffed, realizing she’d have to be more direct. “I meant, do you do therapy with them?”

“No.”

She frowned. “You’re just a theorist?”

“Theoretical work is just as important as applied,” he said, scowling at her as if she’d implied otherwise.

“Yes, but couldn’t you help them best by, you know, talking to them? Interacting with them?”

“The research I do allows other people to do that,” he told her.

“But if you’re the expert, shouldn’t you be the one doing-”

“No.”

Frustrated, she sat back in the chair, crossing her arms across her chest.

“You disagree.”

Rey snorted. “Of course I disagree! What’s the point of doing research at all if you’re not going to do anything with that research?”

“Science for the sake of science is still admirable.”

“Is that what you care about, then? What’s _admirable_?”

“Is that wrong?”

“I-” Her mouth snapped shut, scowling at him she recognized the argument he’d trapped her in. It was much the same as the one she’d had with other professors in the past. And she’d fallen for how he was baiting her - just as she always had. “I don’t know. But Luke agrees with me.”

Instantly, Ren’s face changed. Gone was his calm, slightly bored expression, replaced with a dark, baleful look that made her shrink back a bit despite her annoyance with him.

“We agreed to keep Skywalker out of it,” he snapped.

She knew that.

She also knew that it was one way to turn the tides of this debate back on him, one way to give her the upper hand and stop him in his tracks. Rey hated losing - she always had. Competitive to a fault, and fueled by a stubborn streak a mile long, she’d never been good at just letting something like this go.

She wasn’t about to do it now.

“We did,” she agreed. “But I thought it worth mentioning that one of the most famous psychologists in the field agrees with me.”

For half a second, Rey thought she’d ruined everything. Ren was going to go back on their agreement, yell at her, tell her how wrong and stupid she was and that he wanted nothing to do with her. He was going to throw the grant back in her face, and she was going to lose the money.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he breathed in sharply through his nose, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and simply said, “Fine. Now what’s your schedule?”

Rey grinned. She’d done it - she’d _won._

Won what, exactly, she didn’t know. But she was chalking it up to a victory. And Ren didn’t seem to hate her for it, either.

Oh, sure, he still looked a bit grumpy. But he hadn’t yelled at her as he had yesterday, and he wasn’t snapping at her the way she’d expected him to.

Progress. This was progress.

She leaned in, pulling her planner out of her bag.

“I have class Monday’s and Wednesday’s…”

* * *

They talked logistics the rest of the hour. Their schedules were surprisingly compatible, and they each agreed that they should  start to brainstorm ways of combining their research into one project before they had a joint discussion. It wouldn’t be easy, Rey knew, especially considering how different they seemed to be. But it was a start.

They’d managed to avoid any other disagreements, and Rey quickly found that while he was serious, Ren didn’t seem as bad as people had made him out to be. To be sure, he was a little rough around the edges. He hadn’t once laughed despite all the jokes she’d made, and she thought his face might crack if he smiled. He wasn’t pleasant, not really, but he wasn’t so terrible either. Not entirely, at least.

Maybe Finn and Jessika had been wrong about him. Maybe the bad blood between him and Poe had been because of some stupid high school thing.

...Or maybe she just hadn’t had an opportunity to see beneath the mask he wore. She wasn’t holding her breath.

Regardless of how well their conversation had gone, however, all the shop talk had left her feeling mentally drained. She’d made her excuses to Luke at the first opportunity, slipping off to her apartment and heading out for a run. Exercise had always cleared her head in the past; she had no doubt it would do so again today. She kept at it longer than usual, doing a double loop around the university. Her thighs ached by the end of it, lungs burning as she came round the final corner. She slowed down to a walk, reaching for her phone to turn off the music.

To her surprise, it vibrated in her sweaty hand, and she yelped as she nearly dropped it on the pavement. God, wouldn’t _that_ be just what she needed.

Someone had texted her, she saw. She quickly unlocked the screen and flicked over to her messages.

It was from Ren - short, one sentence, full punctuation. Exactly how she’d pictured him texting, she realized wryly.

**< K. Ren  > Your proposal needs work, but the ideas are good.**

She took a seat on a nearby bench, sending him back a quick reply.

< **Rey > couldn’t just give me the compliment, now, could you? :P**

The emoji was probably a mistake. He probably thought they were stupid and childish and dumb. Well, she thought, bending over to stretch out her calves, he was going to have to get used to it. Because she wasn’t about to change her habits to suit his cranky old style.

He texted her back almost immediately.

< **K. Ren > I mean it, Rey. I think we can make this work. **

He’d never used her name before - not when speaking to her, at least. It made her pause, staring down at the screen longer than usual as she formulated a response.

Eventually, she decided to just ignore it, to treat it like it was nothing. That’s what it was, right?

It was just a name.

**< Rey  > glad to hear it, Ren :)**

**< Rey  > I think so too**

She waited a few minutes to see if he would respond, going through the rest of her stretches as she did. But he didn’t seem to have anything else to say, for her phone remained silent in her hand.

She shrugged, pocketing the device and reaching for her keys. Better get on inside then, before it got too dark out. Besides, if Ren has already read the pages she’d sent him and told her his thoughts… he no doubt wanted to hear what she thought of his proposal. Maybe that was why he’d texted her in the first place - to exchange thoughts.

Well, he’d get hers after she’d cleaned up and had a bite to eat. No sooner, no later.

Grant or no - food would always come first.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finally talks to Luke and discovers his past with Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for reading! <3 You guys have been so kind to me so far, so thanks for reading this self-indulgent little fic of mine :)

 

“Rey - you wanted to see me?”

Rey, bent over at the waist, sat up straight at her mentor's voice, the book in her lap snapping shut with the movement. “Did you get my text?” she asked.

Luke’s eyes crinkled with suppressed amusement. “And the email - both of them,” he replied. “You made it very clear my presence was needed for something.” He waved a hand towards his office, beckoning her in. “Is now good? I’ve got a free hour before I have to go give that presentation.” 

Rey hopped up. “Now is great!” she said, following Luke into the next room. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any pizza with me this time,” he replied, shooting her a sheepish smile. 

Rey grinned, waiting until Luke had settled in at his desk before plopping down in the seat across from him. “That’s okay,” she said. “I think I’ll manage without.”

“I knew you were made of strong stuff. So-” Luke paused, clapping his hands together. “What can I do for you today? I apologize for the mess - I lost my manuscript last night. Tore the place up trying to find it.” 

Rey hadn’t the heart to tell him that his office - hardly the epitome of cleanliness - looked no different than it had the last time she’d been in here. Books and papers were scattered everywhere, with potted plants and random trinkets decorating every free surface. A flimsy paper parasol sat propped against one wall, a collection of rain boots beside it, and several hand-knitted shawls hung on pegs by the door. It looked more like the home of a little old lady than a professor. 

But that was what Rey loved about it the most. It didn’t feel cold or sterile, like so many of the offices she’d visited while in undergrad. It felt… cozy. Homey, even. 

Part of that was undoubtedly Luke himself. He had made her feel welcome as soon as he’d accepted her as a student; before that, he’d been a bit grumpy, sure. But she  _ had _ been rather insistent about studying with him. 

She probably would’ve been annoyed at her persistent emails as well. 

“Rey?”

“Sorry,” Rey said quickly, “It’s - I have something to tell you.” 

“Good news, I hope.”

“Yes - very good news.” Rey paused, swallowing nervously. “I got a response back from FIH about the grant I applied for. I - I got it.”

Luke was quiet for a second, studying her intently. Then his face broke out into a rare, brilliant smile, and he was leaning forward, excited. “Rey, that’s wonderful!” he said. “Congratulations!”

Rey beamed at him. “Thank you!”

“I had a feeling they were going to like your application,” he admitted. 

“Because you helped me come up with it?” Rey guessed, smirking.

“Because it’s a damn good proposal,” he continued, ignoring her. “They saw that, and acted accordingly.” He leaned back in the chair, still smiling at her. “I guess that means you’ll be spending a lot more time in the lab next semester.”

Rey’s smile faltered. “About that,” she said.

Now came the hard part. 

She hadn’t given much thought to how Luke would feel about her research moving away from his and more towards her own goals. He wasn’t the type of mentor who wanted his students to follow directly in his footsteps. Rather, he preferred to nurture students, help them go off in their own directions. She’d had no doubts that he’d be thrilled at her good news. 

But neither of them had anticipated the funding board’s idea that she work with someone else. How could they have? It wasn’t exactly common practice. Add in the fact that that  _ someone _ she was being asked to collaborate with was Kylo Ren, and Rey had suddenly found herself growing fearful of Luke’s reaction to her second bit of news.

“They gave you research stipulations?” Luke asked.

“Just one,” Rey admitted. “It’s - I have to work with someone on the project.”

“A collaboration,” Luke said, running a hand over his scraggly beard. “Interesting. With someone else in the field?”

“...yes.”

“Someone you’ve heard of before?”

“Not exactly.” Rey fidgeted, clasping her hands in together in her lap to prevent them from picking nervously at one of the loose threads in her jeans. 

She was stalling - she knew it, Luke knew it. He fixed her with a kind look, silently waiting for her to continue. 

Taking a deep breath, she took the plunge. 

“It’s - it’s Kylo Ren,” she admitted. “I have to work with Kylo Ren.”

Luke said nothing for a long moment, the silence stretching on and on until it was nearly unbearable. Just when she thought he wasn’t going to reply, he sighed, looking down at his lap, a somewhat forlorn look on his face. 

“I see,” he murmured, blue eyes gone distant. 

“I didn’t ask for this,” Rey said quickly. “If I’d known they were going to do this-”

“Rey.” 

“I’d never even heard of him until the other day, when I got the email,” she continued. “I only ran into him by chance, and we’ve only spoken twice since-”

“Rey.” Luke did look up then, smiling in gentle reproach at her. “I know. You didn’t ask for this.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. 

“And for what it’s worth, Kylo Ren  _ is _ very good at what he does. No one in the department is as good at keeping up with deadlines and posters and conferences as he is. He's very intense.” 

“You…” She trailed off, uncertain. 

She could be wrong, misinterpreting the tone in her mentor’s voice. But it almost sounded as if Luke… respected Kylo - begrudgingly, sure, but it was respect just the same. Not disdain, not scorn, not any of the other things she’d been expecting. 

“Yes?”

“He… Kylo, that is, didn’t seem particularly fond of you.”

Luke snorted. “That’s a polite way of putting it, I suppose.” He shifted, folding his hands together in his lap. “He’s not fond of me. Not at all. He used to be my student, you know.”

Rey couldn’t quite hide her surprise. “Really?” Ren certainly hadn't mentioned  _that_ in any of their conversations.

“Really,” he said, nodding. “But that was before everything went south. Back when he still went by his given name and not that silly pseudonym Snoke makes him use.”

Rey stared, uncomprehending, and some of the mirth returned to her mentor’s gaze. 

“You don’t think his mother would’ve named him  _ that,  _ do you?” 

She nearly choked on her laugh, it startled her so. “It is unusual,” she admitted. “But then if his name isn’t Kylo Ren, what is it?”

“Ben,” Luke said simply. “Ben Solo.”

_ Ben Solo _ . 

Simple. Almost plain. Rey rather liked the sound of it. Much more than Kylo Ren.

“Why does Snoke make him use a pseudonym?” 

“You’d have to ask him that,” Luke replied. “He never mentioned anything about using a different name when he was with me.” 

Fat chance of that happening - somehow, she didn’t get the idea that Ren would appreciate her digging into his past. Whatever his reasons, he had given up his old name, even going so far as to use the pseudonym when he taught. If he hadn't mentioned that his true name was Ben Solo, then it was likely because he didn't want Rey to know or use it.

“How did it happen?” she asked, pushing that particular curiosity aside for the moment for a different one. “How did he come to work with you? 

Luke sighed. “It’s… complicated. When he first applied to the graduate program, you see, he didn’t list anyone that he wanted to work with. It was odd; we put that on the application for a reason, you know. We want professors to look for students whose interests match their own, and students to work with people whose work they like. But he didn’t - completely skipped that section, left it blank.”

“Then how did he get matched with you? How did he make it in at all?”

“Ah,” Luke said, sighing. “Because his scores were excellent - the best any of us had ever seen. Off the charts, almost. All of saw this kid and thought 'How can we _not_ take him?'” He shook his head. "A couple of us would have done a  _lot_ to get him into their labs. On paper, he was almost perfect." 

“Almost…?"

“There was a problem, you see, with just accepting him outright, no questions asked.”

“What sort of problem?”

“He’s Professor Organa’s son.”

Rey blinked, certain he was joking. When Luke didn’t budge, she made an incredulous noise, eyes wide. “You can’t be serious. She’s his - he’s her -“

“I know what you mean. He favors his father,” Luke replied.

“But why didn’t he study with her? Why didn’t she take him on?” 

“Well, for one thing, it looks a lot like nepotism,” he said mildly. “For another, Ben and Leia have a… tumultuous, shall I say, relationship. They were very close when he was young; and she loved him more than anything. He was her entire world, Rey - he still is.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Even if he never bothers to call anymore, and he hasn’t come to a family dinner in ages.”

“What happened?”

“That,” Luke said, “is a long story.” 

Rey settled back into her chair, making herself comfortable. “I’ve got time,” she said. 

Luke eyed her for a moment, and Rey wondered if she was prying too deeply. But then he snorted and shook his head, grabbing for the mug of tea he’d set on his desk, and Rey prepared herself for what expected was a very difficult story to tell.

“It started off slowly. Her research didn’t have much traction when Ben was born; she was too fresh out of grad school for that. But she does good work, and she’s sharp as a tack - you know that, you’ve met her. It wasn’t long before her research really took off. Ben must’ve been… oh, six, seven years old then. I remember it all happened so fast; one day, she was just an associate professor with some good ideas. The next, she was suddenly getting calls to do invited speaker talks, guest lectures, collaborations on big projects most of us only ever dream about. 

“For Leia, the new responsibilities meant an increased salary and a better way to provide for her and Ben,” Luke continued. “She’d have to spend more time at the university, more time away from home. But she figured it was worth it, if she could give him more opportunities.”

“Let me guess - he didn’t see it that way,” Rey guessed. 

“Neither did Han - her husband,” he clarified. “He didn’t get it. Never really did. Academia isn’t really Han’s thing. He supported her, of course, believed in her. But he never really understood her drive. Certainly didn’t understand why she felt she had to take the chances she did. He thought the three of them needed to stick together as a family.”

Rey couldn’t quite fault him for that. Where would she be, if her family had stuck together? Where would her parents have been? Maybe a child could’ve been the impetus they needed to get their lives on a better path. Maybe the responsibility would’ve been good for them. 

Or maybe it would’ve turned out even more poorly than it had when they’d left her alone on the steps of a fire station. It was difficult to tell with these things. 

“Ben took it personally. He felt… abandoned, I guess. He didn't understand why she suddenly wasn't there as much. What seven year-old would? And it only got worse as he got older; Leia kept having to spend more and more time away from home, and eventually Ben just… stopped trying to keep in touch. When he went to college, we didn’t see him again for almost three years.” 

“He just… left?” 

“Does that surprise you?”

Rey conceded the point. 

“We only found out he even applied to the university by chance. I found his forms in a stack Artoo dropped off for me.” He frowned at something, and then snorted. “Come to think of it, I should’ve guessed Artoo was up to something. Little brat was grinning when he gave me the forms. If I’d known then I was going to find my nephew’s paperwork in there, I’m not sure I would’ve taken them.”

“What did you do?”

“I went to Leia, showed her what I’d found. She was shocked, I think - didn’t even know Ben was interested in the social sciences. She called him up that night, demanding to know why he hadn’t talked to her about this, what he planned to do. As you might guess, it didn’t go so well.” He paused, taking a drink of tea. “I never asked, but I think she offered him a spot working with her, protocol be damned.”

“Knowing the position it would put her in?”

Luke nodded. “I think she saw it as a way to connect with him again,” he said thoughtfully. “This was something they could bond over, something they could talk about without… raised voices. Theoretically.” 

He paused, staring at something just over Rey’s shoulder, blue gray eyes distant. “She came to me the next day and begged me to take him on, to offer him a spot working with me.”

“Did you… not want to?”

His eyes flicked back to her. “Again, it’s… complicated,” he sighed. “I wanted to help - and I’d do anything for Leia. But I wasn’t sure I was the right person to mentor Ben. It wasn’t like we’d ever gotten along  _ that _ well before, and now that his entire future was potentially resting on our ability to work together…” He shook his head. “For better or worse, I wrote him an email the very next day, offering him a spot in my lab. He accepted almost immediately.

“It was good at first. Ben is nothing if not dedicated, and he works hard. He stayed late most nights, reading articles, coming up with ideas, pouring over other studies I’ve done. He excelled in his classes, too, and started applying for grants and extra funding as soon as he could. I wasn’t the only one who saw how good he was, how much potential he had - all of the other professors noticed, too, and he got a few offers to collaborate with them on their own research. By the time he’d gotten his Master’s completed, I think he’d gotten his name on more papers than any other graduate student we had. Maybe more than anyone we’d  _ ever _ had.”

He took a deep breath, and Rey sensed that this was it - this was when the story changed, when the story of Ben Solo’s ascent took a steep turn for the worse. 

“And then he met Snoke.”

Luke didn’t say anything else; it was easy enough to guess why. The pain was written all over his face. Rey was torn between desperately wanting to know what happened next and holding her tongue. 

“Did he…” She broke off, changing tack halfway through her sentence. “Was it bad?”

“Let’s just say there’s a reason I didn’t take any students after Ben until  _ you _ barged into my office,” he replied. 

That seemed as much of an answer as she was likely to get - today, at least. Rey let it be. “Fair enough.”

Luke shifted, setting his tea aside. “So, now, is it my turn to ask questions?” he asked. 

Rey blinked, fidgeting uneasily in her chair. “I suppose,” she said. 

This was the part she’d been dreading the most - the questions Luke would ask once she’d revealed her news. Telling him had been hard enough; what would she do if he asked her questions for which she had answer? She’d run through a list of things he might want to know - in fact, she’d been rehearsing her answers as she’d waited outside his office. But preparing for questions in her head was entirely different than facing them head-on. She swallowed to ease her suddenly dry throat.

“Thank you for telling me about the grant,” Luke continued. “And really - congratulations. I mean it. Getting that kind of funding is no small thing. But… are you sure about this?”

She nodded. “I am.”

“I know my nephew, Rey,” he said. “I’ve seen firsthand how focused he can get, how… it’s almost dogmatic, the way he is with his studies. He works himself to the bone, falls asleep at his desk, forgets to eat. I can’t imagine he’d expect anything less of you. I’m not sure it’s healthy.”

She lifted an eyebrow, her worry turned to wry amusement. “You think I’d let him walk all over me like that?”

“Of course not,” he replied. “If anyone can give him a run for his money on sheer stubbornness, it’s you. And you know I mean that in the best possible way, don’t look at me like that.” Rey’s scowl obediently melted away to something more neutral. “It’s not that I don’t think you can take him, Rey. It’s that I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt in the process - the way that I was hurt.”

“That’s what Finn says, too,” Rey admitted. 

“Smart kid,” Luke approved.

Rey ignored the quip. “But I can’t just… not take the chance, Luke.” She shook her head, hoping her mentor would understand what she was trying to say. “I have to do this.”

“I understand that," he said, nodding. "But have you thought about what will happen if it goes badly? What will you do then?”

“What it it doesn’t?” she countered. Luke had no answer, and so she plowed on. “If it gets to be too much, I can always leave. Give the money back, go back to working on your projects with you. I’m not signing my life away.”

“No,” he agreed, considering her words for several long moments. As he conceded to her points, he nodded, and then, ever so slowly, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. “Not your life - just your nights, weekends, and holidays for the next… year and a half.”

“Holidays?”

“Ben isn't really a 'Christmas' kind of guy. Say, you didn’t have any plans with Finn or Rose, did you?" He tsked, shaking his head. "Best cancel those.”

Rey frowned. “You’re having a go at me,” she accused. 

“Taco Tuesday? Thirsty Thursday? Forget about it.”

“While that does sound like something I’d participate in, I can assure you-”

“Did I mention he functions on just four hours of sleep?”

“ _ What?” _

Luke laughed at her outright then, and Rey slumped back in her chair. She was relieved - gratified that Luke wasn’t telling her off, or chastising her choices. Not that she’d thought he would; Luke wasn’t like that. He wasn’t controlling or quick to anger or judgmental. But she’d worried all the same; it had been impossible not to do so, especially after she’d learned of Ren and Luke’s past. 

He was taking it pretty well, she thought. Begrudging acceptance, that’s what this was. He was leery, and probably for good reason, but he hadn’t outright told her he disapproved. And now here he was, teasing her. Clearly, they’d moved from the concerned stage of this talk to the part where he felt they could make jokes about her misfortune. 

It appeared to be easier for him than her.

He reached and patted her on the knee. “You’ll manage,” he said. “I know you will.”

“Well, now that I know how  _ fun _ it’s going to be,” she retorted. 

His voice abruptly turned solemn again. “I’m serious, Rey. If anyone can make this partnership work, it’s you. I’ll admit, I don’t like it. I’d rather you kept on with your research here. But this isn’t my choice to make. It’s yours.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate, Luke. I really do.”

“Just keep in mind that if it ever gets to be too much, if he says or does something you can’t condone… you’re always welcome here. You’ve got a spot. No questions asked - that office is yours until the university kicks us out.”

Rey rose to her feet, grabbing her bag. “I’ll remember that,” she said, offering Luke a hesitant smile.

He returned it, and the final fluttering nerves in her heart went still. 

“Glad to hear it.”

* * *

“Wait - you’re telling me Kylo Ren is Professor Organa’s  _ son _ ?”

Rey nodded, tucking her feet up underneath her and accepting the mug of hot chocolate Poe passed her way. “Thanks,” she murmured, smiling. He returned the grin, settling in beside her on the couch with his own cup. 

“Be careful - it’s pretty hot,” he warned. “Oh, and I might’ve put something a little stronger than milk in there.” He winked. “Gotta start the weekend off right.”

Rey hesitantly took a sip, her face contorting into a grimace as the heavy taste of bourbon hit her tongue. “God,” she sputtered, jerking back and coughing. “How much did you put in there?” 

“Too strong?”

“I think this could strip the paint off furniture!”

Poe chuckled. “That just means it’s working.” 

“Hold up, you two,” Finn announced, storming into the living area, hands on his hips. “Are we just not gonna talk about the fact that Ren is Leia’s  _ kid _ ?”

“What else is there to say?” Rey asked. 

“Well, for starters, did anyone know about this?” Finn demanded. “Because I sure as hell didn’t!” 

“I knew,” Poe admitted. 

Rey turned towards him, recalling Jessika’s words from the other day.  _ They’ve known each other since high school, apparently. _ Then that meant…

Poe had known Kylo Ren before he’d taken on his pseudonym - back when he’d just been Ben. 

Rey practically burned with curiosity, a million questions running through her head and competing to be the one she asked first. What had he been like then? The same - surly, quiet, hating anyone and everyone who looked at him the wrong way? Or had he been different? Had they been friends, as Jessika had suspected, or had they disliked each other from the start?

But then Poe started speaking again, and her questions died on her lips.

“I’ve known Leia since I was a kid,” he said. “Our families go way back. So yeah, I knew Ren.”

“What was he like?”

Poe turned towards her, frowning. “Honestly? Kind of the same,” he replied. “He was always quiet and kept to himself. Good at school, spent a lot of time in the library, didn’t have many friends.”

Finn snorted. “Why am I not surprised,” he muttered under his breath. Rey rolled her eyes at him and he threw his hands up defensively. “Sorry, sorry. Go on,” he added to Poe. “Tell us more about Captain Sourpuss’ childhood.” 

“There’s not much to tell,” Poe said, shrugging. “I knew him better than most people did, but that’s not saying a lot. We had some of the same classes, so we studied together occasionally. When our families met up for dinner, we ended up together at the end the of the table. I guess you could say he tolerated me.”

“But you weren’t… friends?” Rey pressed. “You weren’t close?”

Poe shook his head. “Ren really isn’t the type to get close to anyone,” he said. “Like I said, he kept to himself. I tried inviting him to hang out with some of my buddies a couple times, but he didn’t much care for them. I stopped asking eventually. Figured if he ever wanted to talk, he would." He paused, turning to Rey. "But let’s go back a second - Skywalker is letting you work with Ren? Seriously?”

Rey frowned. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“Uh, because Ren’s a  _ dick _ ?” Finn supplied.

“You’re being too generous,” Poe countered. “Go for asshat, asshat’s always got a nice ring to it.”

Finn snapped his fingers. “Fuckwad,” he added. “Douchenozzle.”

“The two of you are  _ twelve,”  _ Rey cut in, stopping the insult brigade before it could go further. “And to your question, Poe, it wasn’t really his decision, was it? Luke trusts me to make my own choices.” 

“Fair enough,” Poe replied, shrugging. “It’s gotta be weird though, right? Working with Luke’s ex-student?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Rey shot back, taking another sip of her drink. It was just as strong the second time as it had been the first, and she fought to hide her wince. “I haven’t actually worked with him on anything yet.”

“T-minus two days and counting,” Finn muttered. 

“We start Monday.”

“Nervous?”

Yes. 

Incredibly so.

Ren has messaged her this morning, suggesting they meet up Monday to discuss each other’s proposals and decide where to go from there. Having no reason to refuse, Rey had accepted. She hadn’t been anxious at the time, too pressed in between her morning classes to think much about what she was agreeing to do. But once she’d found a free hour and actually read over Ren’s theories, it had been another story entirely. 

This meeting could set the tone for their entire partnership. If she showed any sign of weakness, any hint of academic inferiority, she had no doubts Ren would try to dominate their research. She  _ had _ to be on her toes. She  _ had _ to know what past studies and papers he was likely to reference as they brainstormed. She wasn’t about to let him walk all over her.  

“A bit,” she admitted. She flashed Poe a grin to hide the worried frown threatening to take over. “Wouldn’t happen to have any pointers for getting on Ren’s good side, would you?” 

Poe considered this for a moment. “He likes art,” he said finally. “And coffee - black coffee.” 

“That much I knew.”

“He hates sweets, but eats them anyways. He despises anything not written in APA style, and if you don’t use the oxford comma, you had better start, because he has some  _ strong  _ opinions on that, let me tell you.”

As it turned out, Rey did use the oxford comma. But she filed that but of knowledge away just the same, along with everything else Poe had said. 

“Other than that, I got nothing.” 

“...that’s all you gleaned from growing up together?” 

“Hey, just because I pay attention to details now doesn’t mean I did when I was a kid,” Poe retorted. “Besides - it’s been years since I talked to the guy. Maybe his hobbies have changed.”

“You just said he was pretty much the same,” Finn pointed out. 

“In terms of  _ personality _ , not, you know, what he does on the weekends.”

“According to Luke, he works on weekends,” Rey said.

“In the gym? Dude’s gotta be there all the time,” Finn replied. “Have you seen his arms?” 

Rey hadn’t - she’d been distracted by the height. But she firmly resolved to notice his biceps the next time they met, for Poe was nodding in agreement with Finn’s assessment. 

“He did like working out back in the day,” Poe murmured.

“To impress the ladies?” 

“So he could beat idiots’ faces in, more like,” Poe said, snorting. He turned to Rey then, fixing her with a pointed look. “That’s another thing - watch out if he ever gets angry.”

“Let me guess - I won’t like him when he’s angry?” Rey said sweetly. 

“I don’t think he’d hit you or anything,” Poe continued. “Even Ren has standards. But he gets kinda…” He made an odd gesture, whipping the arm with a hand. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Finn laughed. “You look like you’re conducting a symphony, maestro.”

“Maestro?” Poe said, grinning. “I like that.” 

“Yeah? It fits you,” Finn replied.

Poe leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “Tell me more.”

“But what did it mean?” Rey demanded, trying to get both her friends back on target before their flirting derailed the whole conversation. “That hand waving thing you did.”

“He breaks things.” 

Rey blinked. “How does this-” she said, pausing to imitate Poe’s gesture, “-mean breaking things?”

“You know, like he had a sword or something!”

Rey couldn’t help it - she burst out laughing. So did Finn, collapsing back into his chair at the indignant look on Poe’s face.

“Okay, charades isn’t my thing, but it wasn’t  _ that _ bad,” he said.    


“Oh, god,” Finn said, wiping at his eyes. “Could you imagine if Ren actually  _ did _ have a sword?”

“I’m glad he doesn’t,” Rey said, still chuckling. “It’d make things a bit weird.”

“Weirder than they already are?” Poe teased. “Is that possible?”

“Hey, don’t jinx me,” Rey shot back. “Give me a fighting chance, here.”

“You kidding?” Poe said. “You’ve already got a fighting chance - more than, I’d say.” 

“Yeah, you do,” Finn piped up.

Rey smiled at her friends, warmth blossoming in her chest. It was… nice, she thought - to have their support like this. She wasn’t entirely sure that she needed it; she’d lived on her own for too long to not be able to survive tough situations. But just to know they were there, happy at her success and wishing her luck, rooting for her like this was some sort of battle, meant a lot - more than she thought she could express in mere words. 

She tried anyways.

“Thank you - the both of you,” she murmured, looking at them each in turn. “It’s good to know you’re on my side.”

“‘Course we are,” Finn said. “You think I’d ever go Team Ren?”

“Team Rey all the way,” Poe added, pumping a fist into the air.

Rey grinned even as she rolled her eyes. “There’s no teams.”

“Well, there should be!” Poe said.

Finn snapped his fingers. “Yeah!” he said. 

“Hey, you know what teams need?”

“What?”

“T-shirts.”

Finn’s mouth fell open in surprise. “You,” he said, moving to clap Poe on the shoulder, “are a genius.”

“First the maestro, now a genius?” Poe winked. “You sweet talker, you.”

Rey sighed as the conversation devolved into colors, patterns, and which font they should use to emblazon her name on these t-shirts they were planning. Ridiculous, the both of them. They couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, considering neither of them had even finished their first drink.

But that, she supposed, was part of the reason she loved them. 

And so she settled back into her corner of the couch, ready to offer a suggestion should their taste in design go totally south. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contemplating adding some Stormpilot in here... because those two are just too gosh darn adorable together. We'll see! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Feedback is very much appreciated, if you care to leave any :)


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